Rules of Conduct
by mizu
Summary: Add one Tsukino Usagi, stir in a Chiba Mamoru, and we get what? ehh...read? It isn't as cheesy as it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon belongs to the   
almighty Naoko Takeuchi.   
  
***  
  
Rule #1: Beware of overzealous delivery men bearing good food.   
  
***  
  
Rules of Conduct : Part I  
by mizu  
e-mail: tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com  
  
***  
  
I wriggled contentedly in the plush chair, ignoring the fat raindrops   
pelting down the once-clear window. I found it odd that I was basking   
in the warmth of the flickering fireplace, a mug-full of mocha held   
near to my chest. All my life, I had never known peace such as this;   
had never realized the true beauty of simplicity.   
  
I remember the days when I used to wake up abruptly, feeling the bitter   
chill of the night air creeping against my vulnerable spine. I'd   
shiver involuntarily, as if to shake away the fears that brewed within   
my subconscious. I was usually tolerant of such issues, for deep down,   
I knew that I had complete control over my life and my mind. At that   
moment, I chose to trust my logic, not some frivolous, nonsense message   
that arose from my mind during the deepest of slumbers.   
  
I sighed, re-looking upon my past self. Everyday, I would ignore that   
gaunt face that stared back at me in the bathroom. I did not notice   
the shadows creeping over my face, taking hold of my soul with a death   
grip. My soul, however, belonged to no one but to it's rightful owner.  
  
And so, it begins...  
  
---  
  
I was quite anxious, seeing that this was the first day of the   
merger negotiations. Conferences were quite bothersome, however, in   
this case, holding the event nearer to home base in Tokyo city was   
quite rewarding.   
  
The city was full of bustling busy bodies, each clambering to   
their appointed destinations during the dim morning hours. Every   
morning, I woke up, watching the mist part to let some of the fickle   
rays to shine forth. As the minutes past, a quick peek out the window   
would portray a sea of people, dressed in a variety of colors. From   
sea-green, cloaked individuals, to conservatively dressed gray workers,   
I weaved past each of them effectively.   
  
At that time, I solely believed that the city was the ONLY place   
for me. The rich colors of the marketplaces, the availability of any   
utility, interested me, and quickly found their ways into my hectic   
life.   
  
I grew up in the quiet areas of Juuban alone, not remembering a   
single ounce of my past. Unknown betrayal would sometimes grapple at   
my insides, but not knowing the source often bothered me. It was best   
to forget, I agreed, and leave the past to itself.   
  
The best way, and the most cliched way, was to work. Working   
brought a sense of freedom to me. Many people either gaped at me   
questioningly at me or laughed outright in my face when I spoke my mind   
in that manner. They didn't think trivial things would bother me,   
they'd claim, either raising their eyebrows or holding their   
midsection's in mirth. I didn't find it funny.   
  
Actually, it made much more sense than to frolic around aimlessly   
in smoke-fogged bars and crowding malls. After all, I wasn't a   
flippant youth. Had I succumbed to such frivolities, my hard-earned   
foundation would have crumbled beneath my very feet.   
  
Working brought order to my mind, setting it free of useless   
anxieties that I wished to abandon. That, I realized early in my   
youth, was true freedom. It wasn't that work didn't have its rewards   
besides my much needed freedom. Over the years, I have been promoted   
to the board of directors, becoming chief industrial engineer. The   
field, in itself, had never appealed to me. Being an industrial   
engineer required one to commit themselves to learn about simple,   
effective solutions. It involved acquainting oneself with the mindless   
thoughts that floated flippantly in one's persona, and ultimately,   
their psychology. I was a solver of problems, and my trusty logic   
rarely failed me.   
  
Sure, life had it's quirks. Surprises weren't the top of my   
"best liked" list. In fact, it drew very close to the border of pet   
peeves. Order was what I craved, and consequently, freedom.   
  
"Good morning, Ms. Tsukino," my secretary sauntered through the   
door with a tea cup held firmly in her hand, and a fresh copy of the   
newspaper tucked under one arm. 9:01 AM. She was right on time. She   
was quite consistent. She knew that I got to the offices on the   
twenty-fourth floor exactly at nine. A minute later, I'd be settled   
conformably in my leather swivel chair, opening the mail piled in order   
of importance.   
  
"Your meetings with Mr. Kamizawa, Mr. Soujiro, and Dr. Richmond,   
have been cancelled," she said oddly serene, snapping the organizer   
shut with an audible click. "I've cancelled all other appointments for   
the rest of the week as well." She smiled calmly, unruffled by the   
increasing rage I was desperately trying to bridle.   
  
Order, Tsukino, *Order*...  
  
"What?" I seethed, then forced myself to be satisfied with a   
mere smile that seemed plastic upon my lips. She mirrored me, face   
lips creasing upwards in cold, cordial demeanor. The ebony hair pulled   
behind in a pinned bun made her face seem all the more stark.   
  
Damn. I had taught her well...   
  
I had a short temper in my younger days. It seems that even my   
cool demeanor couldn't be restrained with the thought that my obedient,   
efficient little secretary had obstructed my peace.   
  
Smiling once again, my secretary left from the confines of my   
vast office, closing the door calmly behind her. I glared at the spot   
she stood on this morning, and listened to the sound of receding   
footsteps.   
  
An hour later, I was suitably calm, typing a mile a minute on my   
desktop PC. It was a lovely thing, sleek and black. Best of all, it   
kept all her folders in order.   
  
It was midday by the time I decided to do some stretching   
exercises and flop onto the couch placed strategically on one side of   
the office just for occasions such as these. Reaching of the black   
lacquered telephone, I dialed the number to my favorite delivering   
restaurant.   
  
Within the span of fifteen minutes, a knock came to the office   
door. I figured it was the delivery man. Knowing my secretary, she   
had dropped the custom of knocking long ago when I told her it was too   
tedious to shout, "come in!" across a room during hectic months.   
Nevertheless, I voiced the same command across the room from my couch,   
not bothering to open my eyes.   
  
"Money's on the counter. Keep the change," I murmured drowsily,   
slowly being reawakened by the scent of fresh food.   
  
"That's all?!" A masculine voice sputtered in outrage. It was a   
voice that seemed vaguely familiar, as it resonated into my memory.   
  
"That's more than enough! It's five times the amount set by the   
standard quotas in the re--" I shot back, turning to meet the   
obviously unsatisfied delivery man. He picked a terrible day to toy   
with me. The words left my mind when I caught site of the   
conservatively-dressed male lounging on the aforementioned counter.   
  
"Hello Usagi," he grinned impishly; a grin that I knew all too   
well from throughout my childhood and transitional years. He had his   
legs and arms crossed, the black fabric of his jacket straining lightly   
at the elbows. He looked very...reformed since the last time I saw   
him. I gave him the usual critical look I usually gave him when I saw   
him.   
  
"Suddenly turn decent, Chiba?" I arched an elegantly shaped   
eyebrow. "What happened to the delivery man?" I asked him, walking in   
the direction that my stomach demanded. It rumbled agreeably in   
response as I drew nearer to the paper bag. Udon noodles, fried to   
perfection. Yummy.   
  
Grabbing a pair of disposable chopsticks, I sampled the food in   
the container. Still warm. I closed my eyes contentedly, savoring the   
explosions of flavor bursting within the confines of my mouth.   
  
"Ah, Usagi? Sorry to interrupt the intimate moment you're having   
with your food, but you know, I'm still here," the Chiba Mamoru   
interrupted - and enjoying the disruption he was causing as well.   
  
"Unfortunately..." I mumbled between bites, turning my attention   
back at my lunch.   
  
That was Chiba Mamoru for you. He was, and still is, might I   
add, an arrogant, freelance, reckless, carefree, and mocking little   
creature. Come to think of it, he's towered over me, despite the   
expensive pumps, so 'little' isn't quite the correct terminology to   
use. He always jumped at the chance to poke around my personal life,   
attempt to change my orderly habits and 'reform me', as he'd say it.   
I'd snort in the most unladylike manner I could manage and turn back to   
my computer. However, despite all these many faults that riddled   
through his personality, he was (and always will be) my best friend.   
  
  
"So, what are you doing here?" I leaned back against the chalk   
white walls, fiddling with the hemming of my cream colored silk jacket.   
A smile would be too awkward in this case, so Chiba would just have to   
settle for an arched expression.   
  
"After all this time, and *that* is all you can say to me?" He   
mirrored my expression annoyingly. "I've been promoted and   
transferred." He answered the question straight-forwardly. He rotated   
around for my inspection. "How do I look?"   
  
"Not too shabby," I admitted truthfully. He actually   
looked...nice in a suit. Last, I had seen him with those accursed   
bombers and sports jackets. Ugly things, I had always thought. I also   
spoke my mind.   
  
"Guess what?" He tilted his head childishly sideways, expression   
oddly bright, but not uncommon.   
  
"Chiba, no jokes, no games," I sighed heavily, chest heaving on   
finality. I told you, surprises weren't exactly one of my likes.   
  
"Tsk tsk, Usagi. Still that *serious*?" He grinned lightly,   
jumping off the counter and walking toward me. He came within   
hairsbreadth distance from my face, peering intently in my eyes, as if   
searching for some lost treasure. "I thought so," he remarked glumly,   
stuffing his hands into his pockets. He began pacing around the space   
in front of me, occasionally scuffing a foot on the thin beige carpet   
that matched the decor.   
  
"I got promoted," he began in a quiet voice.   
  
"To what?" I prompted, curiosity peeking at the edges of my   
voice. Have I told you how much I hated surprises?   
  
I thought so.  
  
"Chief Mech Engineer."  
  
I gaped, lips parted slightly. This means that...  
  
"I'm in the same rank as you are!" He beamed childishly,   
grabbing my arms and dancing away happily. I flopped   
uncharacteristically, unswerved by erratic dance steps he was   
concocting from his artistic side.   
  
"You're going to be in this building, aren't you?" I noted slyly   
at him. It wasn't much of a question, since I'd already accepted a   
fact like this. After all, Mamoru was a hard worker. We had rivaled   
each other in university. After the first year, he veered off into the   
mechanical field. I was temporarily saddened by that fact during that   
time, but as always, I adapted. With enough work, I forgot that   
sadness and accepted what would be.   
  
"You'll deal with what people want and I'll build those little   
gadgets to assess their needs. How's it sound?" He danced about   
merrily, still choreographing his own patterns. I somehow managed to   
escape his wild jig, letting the information he'd just dumped on me.   
  
"Do I have a choice in the matter?" I sighed heavily, voicing my   
question sarcastically.   
  
He shook his head, light dancing on his gelled, glossy raven   
locks. "Nope." He gave me a winning grin - just to irritate me.  
  
I told you he was annoying...  
  
---   
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon belongs to the   
almighty Naoko Takeuchi.   
  
***  
  
Rule #2 : If someone asks you to a dance, agree, no matter who they   
are.   
  
***  
  
Rules of Conduct : Part II  
By Mizu  
email: tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com  
  
***  
  
I was sneaking behind a corner – well, not *sneaking* per se, but   
actually – drat. I was never one for beating around the bush. Very   
inefficient, you see. Degrades the character. I rolled my eyes toward   
the ceiling, where the slowly, swirling fans greeted me mechanically.   
I was being immature! Why would *I* need to avoid Chiba?   
  
I'm uncomfortable with people.   
  
I swatted the idea away, irritably. Why would *I* need to hide   
from *him*? I asked myself. The idea was just...absurd!  
  
No it isn't.  
  
Yes it is!  
  
Nope.  
  
Yes!  
  
Nuh-uh.   
  
For your infor- I paused. I was arguing with myself. Egads! I   
was going insane! This ridiculous self-argument (I bet psychologists   
will get a kick out of *that* idea!) was just-just...illogical! I   
pressed my forehead on the wall, feeling the chill of the surface   
seeping into my skin and penetrate my bones. I shivered involuntarily,   
arching my back slightly.  
  
"Talking to the wall, again?" I heard a voice stated wryly   
behind me. I stiffened. Rotating ever so slowly to give him my best,   
most placid face I could muster. Despite my disapprovals of Mamoru, I   
would never admit to defeat. For some odd reason, that man loved to   
surprise me. Favorite hobby of the week, you see...  
  
"No," I cupped my forehead in my palm. Pain due to the stress   
was building around my sensitive temples. Closing my eyes briefly, I   
swerved away from Mamoru, fully intent in getting into my car and   
driving home.   
  
To my surprise (and disgust), a firm grip took hold of my elbow,   
keeping me from having a nice little meeting with the *all-so-  
welcoming* floor. A gentle hand swiftly brushed away the flaxen   
strands and the back of it pressed upon my forehead, as if testing my   
temperature.   
  
"Tsk, tsk, Usagi. Those late nights at the office aren't doing   
you any good. Your forehead is warm," Chiba stated the obvious, taking   
hold of my other arm to support me. The world seemed to rock back and   
forth when I was in his grasp. The slight pounding ache at my temples   
were now roaring loudly in my ear drums.   
  
"I'm fine," I lied, trying to stabilize myself. The cursed ship   
kept rocking. I wasn't one for traveling by ships. The last time I'd   
got on a ship was when I was ten. A friend from school had invited me   
to a birthday party that was held on a luxurious yacht. It didn't seem   
like my place to be there. The ship was oddly full of rich children,   
each pruned to gaudy perfection as their parents saw fit.   
  
Needless to say, I had a horrible time. It wasn't just the fact   
that I immediately ran for the medical kit when the ship glided slowly   
away from dry land – and in my case, the land of living – it was the   
fact that no matter how hard I would try, I did not fit in.   
  
I spent that night hanging over the rail, my stomach rejecting   
all the rich foods I had eaten earlier. Even my friend had deserted me   
to entertain others. From that day on, all optimism wiped out from my   
system. I realized two crucial concepts; that children were cruel and   
that isolation was a harsh teacher.   
  
"No, you're not. Usagi, you look more pale than an Egyptian   
papyrus scroll!" Mamoru exclaimed, looking critically at my slack   
face. He seemed to wince at my chalk white features.   
  
I turned around to face him, fixing him with the most critical   
look I could assemble with whatever was left of my rapidly depleting   
strength. "Egyptian papyrus?"   
  
He ignored my comment, which was a very rare instance. He never   
ran away from the chance to spite me.   
  
"How are you getting home?" He asked, voice oddly serious and   
gruff. I reached into my purse and managed to feebly pull out a chain   
of keys, one of which was my car key.  
  
He shook his head firmly. "Give me those. I'll drive you home."   
It was a blatant statement. I was ready to throw a round of insults at   
him, but felt too queasy to do so.   
  
"How are you going to get home? Wouldn't you have to come back   
here for your car?" I asked pointedly.  
  
He shook his head again, a negative. "They still need to provide   
me with a car. For now, I'm just supposed to *settle in*," he   
grumbled. I stifled a giggle. Apparently, they treated all   
transferees the same way.   
  
Somehow, he had coaxed me into my own car without many protests,   
and drove me home. How or where he got my address, the issue was   
beyond my logic capabilities at the time being. When he had finally   
gone through my entire ring of keys, he tugged me inside my apartment.   
  
"Now, you should get some sleep," he pointed out the obvious. I   
was already fumbling through the hallway toward my bedroom. Once   
there, I flopped painfully on the neatly made bed, instantly ruffling   
the forest green sheets.   
  
"You don't have to mother me," I mumbled, my face partially   
buried in my pillow. For some odd reason, the image of Mamoru in an   
apron amused my foggy mind. I grinned faintly in my pillow, eyes shut   
tightly.   
  
He sighed a great sigh; the type of sigh you would shake your   
head and roll your eyes to the ceiling sigh. I felt the familiar   
covers being brought up to my chin, tucking me comfortably.   
  
It was an odd sensation. No one had ever tucked me in before.   
At least, I couldn't remember the last time I was tucked in. Brushing   
the thought away from my mind, I sank deeper into the yielding mattress   
and let my growing fatigue overcome my senses.   
  
"Thanks," I said softly, curling up in a ball to increase warmth.  
  
"Sweet dreams, Usagi," I heard a faint voice murmur, soft as a   
child's whisper. I forgot what happened next, for I was soon fast   
asleep.   
  
***  
  
Notes:   
Rule blurbs above courtesy of Lelu. ::glomps:: arigato! ^_^  



	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon belongs to the   
almighty Naoko Takeuchi.   
  
***  
  
Rule #3 : If you're dressing up for a prince, make sure he's ready   
first.  
  
  
***  
  
Rules of Conduct : Part III  
By Mizu  
email: tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com  
  
***  
  
In the next few weeks, I saw Mamoru very often. I had even   
gotten accustomed to his crude remarks after a month or so. Often   
times, he would drag me out of my desk during lunch hours to a decent   
restaurant, claiming that I needed to eat a 'well balanced meal'. What   
was so unbalanced about delivery? Needless to say, I complied with his   
little wishes, just to make him content. A content Mamoru was far   
better than an irate Mamoru. I'd never seen him angry, but I've seen   
him annoyed. That was more than enough to keep away from unexplored   
territory.   
  
It was one such lunch time that Mamoru brought up the horrid   
topic I had been avoiding all week.   
  
"They're holding a charity ball and all the major corporate   
employees have been invited," he commented casually, scooping a small   
amount of rice into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, bamboo   
chopsticks firmly grasped in one hand.   
  
Rule number one: beware of Mamoru when he looks thoughtful. It   
usually means he's up to something devious. Not that would be a   
surprise, of course. It was quite expected of him.   
  
"Uh-huh..." My eyes never broke away from the flat screen before   
me. My best friend away from my office: my lap top. Who said you   
couldn't buy friends with money? Albeit, they weren't organic,   
breathing, hominids... As much as Mamoru wheedled, he could not get   
the machine away from my death grip. "Your point being?" I continued,   
ignoring the bowl of rice set before the table by the stocky waiter,   
spotless cloth draped over one arm.   
  
"Seeing that you never attend to these events—"  
  
"—and never will..."  
  
He continued on regardless. Typical of him.  
  
"I'd thought it might be a good idea to get you a social life."   
Well, since he put it so bluntly...  
  
"No."   
  
"Why not?" He squawked, not comprehending. Actually, I think he   
did, he just didn't want to admit it. Damn ego. It was just as bad as   
mine. I wouldn't fault him for doing so, since the act alone would   
condemn me to hypocrisy.   
  
"Because," I answered crisply, pushing away my bowl to make more   
room for my organized, plastic companion. It wasn't really an answer,   
but Mamoru should've figured that it was a sufficient response from me.   
Anyway, I was in no mood to 'socialize'. It wasn't one of my hobbies.   
Truth be told, I've spent most of my life alone, fending for myself   
against the cruelties of the outside world. From a young age, I was   
exposed to scarier things than the creature living underneath my bed.   
One such concept was the idea of reality. In truth, I think that no   
child should have their make-belief world and shelter be ripped from   
their lifestyle. God forbid, they might end up like me – or worse,   
like Chiba! My mind boggled at the thought of it!   
  
He too, had lost his parents from a young age. Poor laddie, he   
used to pent himself up in his own room, hidden in the shadows behind a   
potted plant in the orphanage. That was where I'd met him. He was in   
MY corner, the corner that I had claimed for myself during rainy   
seasons. As a result, our arguments started at the sprouting age of   
four. However, as the years past, we eventually tolerated each other,   
and eventually, grudgingly declared a cease fire.   
  
"But *why*?" He wheedled, much like a child would for sweets   
before supper time. He flashed his most handsome smile at me, all   
pearly whites shining dazzlingly. HE of ALL people should've known   
that that would've done him as much good as a boulder would've.   
  
"Not working..." I muttered above the comforting hum of my   
notebook, and kept on typing, regardless of his efforts.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No."  
  
"With sugar on top?"  
  
"No way."   
  
"Cherries and—"  
  
Exasperated, I paused mid-sentence in the report that I was   
composing. "You just want me to come because you don't have a date," I   
said dryly, pointing out the truth for all it was. He frowned for a   
moment before answering.  
  
"How'd you guess?" He looked perplexed, taking the glasses off   
the bridge of his nose and hooking them in his designer coat pocket.   
He lapsed back into those rare serious tones, finally drawing my   
attention away from my work.   
  
I shrugged in reply and gave him my most charming Tsukino Usagi   
smile that made every other man on the street melt, or so I've heard   
from my distant cousin, Aino Minako. Now why didn't he go out with   
her? She was certainly more glamorous, more charming and more   
beautiful than I...  
  
"Minako might be a better choice," I suggested, eyes turning back   
to my computer screen, dutifully adding in my references to my   
footnotes. Oddly, my mind wasn't fully focused on the task at hand.   
Rather, it was straying to only kami-sama knows where, in particular,   
Mamoru's request.   
  
"She's a beautiful girl, with a pleasant personality," I   
continued, ignoring that odd hunch in the back of my mind. Why should   
I care about a charity event? Let alone my social life? Or worse off,   
Chiba's?!  
  
He didn't answer. In fact, he didn't even bother to comment.   
How odd... Silent Chiba's are hard to come by these days.   
  
"Besides, she's a far better companion than I would ever be," I   
babbled on, fixing my eyes on the glare-proof flat screen. I let my   
lips curve up in a small grin. "Besides, you might be able to make   
something out of it after," a rare girlish giggle escaping my lips,   
which quickly ended in a yelp as the notebook was bent in double. My   
annoyed stare traveled from my barely grazed digits to the fingers   
resting upon the dark casing of the notebook. Now why would he do a   
baka-ish thing like that? However, I was shaken out of my irritated   
mood by the penetrating stare due across the table, or, me. I matched   
him look for look, my challenging spirit raging against his.   
  
He finally broke the long-held gaze, looking at me through hooded   
eyes. An oddly cheery grin broke free of the serious mask he bore.   
  
"It's okay, I understand."  
  
Then he was gone... Only a few wadded up paper bills and   
tarnished coins the only evidence that he had occupied that space for a   
full hour and a half.   
  
***  
  
I was heading toward the bathroom to do my business as usual,   
brushing past the occasional multitasking employee running for   
photocopies, phone calls and whatnot. Through the latter part of the   
day, I was mulling over Chiba's request, and why he would ask me.   
Logic, of course, could make no sense of the absurd idea, and thus,   
neither did I.   
  
I paused mid-hall to open my purse, fishing for a tube of   
lipstick. The last time, the slippery plastic cylinder slipped from my   
grasp and rolled under a locked stall. I knew better than to engage   
myself in another wild goose chase with misbehaving cosmetics on the   
floor of an office washroom.   
  
"Ohohohoho!" I heard the loud, boisterous laugh of some men in   
the male washrooms, which was conveniently placed beside the female's   
restrooms to efficiently use the sewage utilities hooked up to the   
building. Still digging around my purse for my lipstick, I shook my   
head, ignoring the chattering emerging from the men's room.   
  
"Chiba will never find a date on time! I told you he was a   
wimp!" One tenor voiced his opinion. I arched my eyebrow, the classic   
Tsukino sarcasm painfully etched across my face.   
  
"Sissy!" Another jeered, followed by loud, rapturous laughing.   
I cringed inwardly, the word, ingrate, running through my cramped mind.   
Egads, these people were acting with as if they had the personalities   
of two year olds! And even THEN, the little tykes would outmatch them   
in a maturity contest!   
  
"Aino-san's already going out with me! And just about every   
other woman has already hooked up with a date! He'll never find an   
eligible woman now!" Another shouted, a chorus of laughs promptly   
following the statement once again. Man, this was starting to sound   
like Prince Charming looking for his Cinderella...   
  
Then it hit me, why Chiba was asking me out. Obviously Minako   
had already agreed to go out with that bloating blowfish of a man in   
the restroom. Of course, Chiba had no other choice, but to ask me!   
The sky was blue and the sun rose from the east side! Or, in other   
words, it made sense now!   
  
I refrained myself from patting myself on the back, or from doing   
one of Chiba's infectious jigs.   
  
"The only woman left is that old hag upstairs!" The first voice   
I heard had spoken again.   
  
Old hag? Who's the old hag? I scooted myself closer to the door   
frame, attempting to catch the errant sound that escaped between the   
thin crevices at the hinges and door bottoms.   
  
"Who?" Came the inquiry of man #2.   
  
Yes, who indeed...  
  
"That Tsukino woman!" Man #3 blurted out callously, "Hey, isn't   
she related to Aino-san? Who cares anyway, that woman—if she IS one—  
has the grace of donkey!" More raucous laughter ensued this particular   
comment.  
  
NANI?!!!   
  
A string of vehement curses were uttered in the laughter and din   
within the restroom, and when I had exhausted my vocabulary of insults,   
I began inventing new ones. I barely held myself from kept myself from   
snapping the silken thread of my patience into two and show them   
exactly what this 'Old Hag' could do.   
  
(Now that I look back on that event, I should have. Would've   
been great fun...)  
  
We'll see what this old hag is capable of...   
  
***  
  
The charity ball was tomorrow night, as I gladly slipped off the   
black pumps and ran into my shower for a quick cleansing. The steam   
proved to be somewhat of a hassle, as I was forced to fix my hair in   
oval mirror above my genuine oak drawers. Squinting at my foggy   
reflection and attempting to pin up my hair would be a bother anyway.  
  
After what seemed like eons, my hair was suitably dried, and   
pinned into an elaborate bun that I normally wore for fancy conventions   
where there was no escape within a ten-mile radius. The ends, which   
normally suffered from a condition called 'frizziness', were arranged   
neatly in waves, with a suitable amount of 'peach sensation' mousse.   
Normally, I wouldn't buy cheap, synthetic, and what I deemed to be a   
health hazard scented products, however, I was fooled by their crafty   
advertisements.   
  
And just for the record, peaches are my favorite fruit.   
  
When my hair was arranged according to my standards, I opened my   
closet. Hanging on the door, a silky, pale, chrysanthemum-embroidered   
Chinese-style button down stared marvelously back at me. Folds fell   
upon folds like smooth liquor rolling on your tongue.   
  
Snipping the dangling price tag from the elegant dress I had   
bought last week, promptly after that episode in the men's restroom, I   
slipped on the garment, reveling in its silk smoothness. The skirt   
seemed moderately straight, falling unceremoniously to the ground like   
a fountain of water. However, when I walked, it fanned out charmingly,   
the heavenly fabric whispering as I walked around my room.  
  
Fixing the last ivory-lined button, I took one last look at the   
mirror to confirm my appearance.   
  
Ready, set, ACTION! Watch out, old hag coming your way!   
I let out a supremely evil chuckle, while shutting the door   
quietly behind me.   
  
***  
  
As I figured, Chiba was staying home that night, cradling his   
frail male ego. I winced. Oooh, they really rubbed the issue into   
him, didn't they?   
  
Soon, I found myself glowering at nothing in particular in front   
of me.   
  
"Ingrates," I muttered quietly under my breath, my fingers   
fumbling the crevice between the doorframe and wall for the bell. An   
answering ring confirmed my search as a success, as I heard shuffling   
and objects being moved within.   
  
"Hai?" Came one bleary eye, door opening quarter-way. Mamoru's   
tousled hair draped messily over his eyes, distorting his vision. He   
raked his fingers through his midnight hair to compensate for the   
disadvantage, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.   
  
He blinked.   
  
"Usagi?" He croaked unbelievingly. "What are you doing here?"   
As if on cue, he looked me over from head to toe, and back again, awe   
seeming to light upon his haggard features.   
  
"What are you doing here?" He uttered slowly, gaping at me.   
  
"I'm here to save your sorely depleted ego, you big baka!"   
  
He blinked rapidly a few times, then continued gaping at me   
without regard. And here I thought Chiba had manners...   
  
"Well, aren't you going to let me in?" I said impatiently,   
letting out a short, clipped sigh. Mutely, he opened the door wider,   
stepping aside to let me in. I took one step into the apartment and   
froze dead at the doormat.   
  
The place was an absolute mess! How could someone live in a   
pigsty like this?! The room was in such a horrid state! There was a   
trail of clear space leading to the couch, where a square glass of   
half-finished brandy laid out in the open. I assumed that he had moved   
these obstructions in the way to answer the door.   
  
Swiveling, I drank in the sight of what must have been the   
complete opposite of my neat office, hundreds of critical comments   
coming to mind. It was in the midst of my disapproving glare did I see   
a cellophane-wrapped garment hanging neatly, contrasting amongst the   
mess.   
  
It was a formal suit, probably tailored to fit Chiba like a   
glove. The black bow-tie was unraveled, hanging around the collar,   
slightly askew. Gingerly, I took the small article through the clear,   
wispy wrapping, and straightened it as best as I could. I stared at it   
for some time before Chiba's voice roused me from my daze.   
  
"Umm, Usagi? What are you doing here?" He repeated the   
question, attempting to draw an answer from me. He looked somewhat   
neater now after fixing his hair, as he would present himself in the   
office. I gave him my famous purposeful face, so full of ambition that   
it would've frightened the heebie jeebies out of a normal person.   
  
I knew since we were kids that Chiba wasn't normal. If anything,   
he was so abnormal that it seemed normal. Then again, that's my   
opinion of him.   
  
"What are you standing around for, Chiba?! You've got a charity   
ball to attend! Are you going to embarrass me in front of all the   
other employees?" I barked out orders like a military captain, the   
focused glint-in-the-eye ever so present.  
  
You know, I could've sworn a mischievous grin spreading across   
his face as I scooted him off to his room to prepare. If anything, I   
think he was going to enjoy this as much as I was going to.   
  
***  
  
Notes:   
mercenary editor of the week : The Rose Society (Arigato!)  
Rule blurbs above courtesy of Lelu. ::glomps:: arigato! ^_^  
April 20/01  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon belongs to the   
almighty Naoko Takeuchi.   
  
AN's: I blame this on finals and ::checks cd:: Tchaikovsky's Concerto for the Violin. Minna! I'm free, at last! ;) Oh, I was eating cappuccino candy when I was writing this. Beware of cynicism. ;)   
  
Note: Oh, btw, there's a bit of swearing, but nothing too horrible. ;)   
  
***  
  
Rule #4 : "Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned." (proverb)  
So, try not to irritate one.   
  
  
***  
  
Rules of Conduct : Part IV  
By Mizu  
email: tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com  
  
***  
  
Wars have never been glamorous. There were always many concepts to consider. Tactics, reserves, stratagems, they were all part of the grueling work that must be endured during wars. Sorrows that beheld the heart were painful experiences that no human being should ever endure. If the points above weren't enough to make me reconsider, call me cold-blooded reptile.   
  
So, perhaps I went a little overboard in this endeavor of mine to beat the crap out of some egotistical co-workers. No biggie.   
  
I found myself humming to the tune of "We are the Champions" while driving down the empty, two-way street. My pale white car pierced into the dark night like a ghost ship in the races. To the regular pedestrian, I was no more than a white zephyr flying across the city at breakneck speed.   
  
Mamoru, on the other hand, seemed to be having *great* fun in the car. No, actually, he was gripping the dark dashboard with an iron-clad grasp. His icy knuckles contrasted with the black interior of the car *wonderfully*. His other hand, I feared, would snap the pearly door handle in two. You win some, you lose some. However, I was in the mood for winning tonight. My confidence in this mission would not disappoint me. I wouldn't let it anyway.   
  
"Usagi, slow down," Mamoru hissed between clenched white teeth. His face was frozen in that adorable horrified expression. An expression that I usually saw during some of my most successful arguments against him, and it gave me joy that words could not express. A sadistic thought, some would say. I would settle for success instead. Besides, he deserved it for teasing me.   
  
I smiled and made an exaggerated swerve around a light pole to the next street. A petrified expression of pure fear seemed to cloud over his eyes. The poor door handle would need to be fixed tomorrow morning.   
  
We passed by houses darkened by the evening sky, their artificially lighted houses were poor reflective counterparts of the rousing stars above. Sad, really, but one could only try their best. I spared a glance at Chiba and grimaced.  
  
The Starlight Gala was an annual event located at the edge of the district. The lone hotel stood solemnly at the crest of a series of thin strips of white beaches, sloping gently into a vast sparkling lake. When the moon rose at its zenith among its courtyard of stars, the spared light seemed to give the area an ethereal glow. A few clumps of basalt lined the beaches, their angular forms jutting out sharply where water lapped upon the sand dunes.  
  
I pulled up behind a sleek black car in the curved driveway. The path was really arched to partially wrap itself around the spouting fountain in an expression of artful landscaping. I was never much of a landscapist. My artistic comments ranged from adequate looking toasters to the faded carpet mat by my door. I never did care for sunsets and lovey dovey, fairy tale-type environments. I could get the same sensation by eating a fistful of marshmallows. Besides, marshmallows were cheaper.   
  
The friendly valet opened the door for me kindly as I stepped out with my voluminous skirts in hand. I dropped the car key into his hand, smiling as I did so. It would do me no good to scowl at the temporary keeper of my car, would it now?   
  
"This ought to be fun," I whispered quietly to Mamoru, placing my hand in the crook of his arm as I did so.   
  
"Very," he grinned a la Chiba, a grin that many would learn to fear in due time. We ascended up the few stairs leading to the interior of the hotel, and inevitably, the chrome elevator doors that would allow us passage to the battlefield upstairs.   
  
We rode the elevator in silence, awaiting for the twinkling chime that would mark the final launch of our mission. The elevator chimed as it was supposed to, marking our point of no return.   
  
Nothing prepared me for the sight my eyes beheld as the metal doors slid open with a deep rumble of well-maintained mechanisms. The walls were ivory-colored, and rather plain-looking. However, upon closer inspection, I could see the tiny details and imprints painstakingly hewn out of the rock. I knew that it couldn't have been machine-made; some of the designs were slightly deviated that a machine could never have done in all its perfection. Now, why would anyone choose a wall where all the beautiful art was camouflaged was another   
thing.   
  
The carpet was a classic cherry red, plush beneath my feet. Ahead, a pair of French doors, well beyond Mamoru's height, stood solemnly as if they were akin to the gates of heaven. Brass knobs polished to a shining perfection fixed themselves at arm level.   
  
We had only been through the hallways and yet, the rich décor was fit for royalty! How I knew that, I still do not know to this date. Perhaps I was a princess in a previous life.   
  
Then, we were standing before the gates to heaven, or possibly hell, depending on how you saw the situation. Both Chiba and I had enough confidence to soar through the roof of the skyscraper, and did not doubt in the success of this night.  
  
"Ready?" Mamoru murmured quietly, a small, quirky grin appearing on his face. I nodded and summoned enough courage to turn the brass knob.   
  
The doors swung open ornately, giving us a clear view of the opulent ballroom. Twelve marble columns edged with gold and silver towered to the dome-like ceiling. Twelve marble columns that reminded me of the Greek titans before they fell at the hands of their children, the gods.   
  
Tall, square-paned windows reached high above, stopping just before the point of inflection of the circular ceiling. Each was a facet in the giant crystal that was this ballroom. You could look out each window, and probably see a different world. Or perhaps that was just my girlish, imaginative side peeking through its confines.   
  
Soft blush-rose curtains, were held back with tasseled silver ropes. The inhabitants of the luxurious room seemed small and insignificant in my field of vision. They reminded me of strategy computer games, where you built a world, and cultivated a civilization. Everyone would just be a pawn in your game, and you would never identify each person by name. Since I knew them, maybe I was just another pawn as well, playing out some ridiculous role.   
  
The floor was composed of black marble, polished to a high-glossy shine. The dancing couples glided across the surface, their reflections waltzed in mute silence to music that could be heard in the marble depths. If management added a centerpiece, the entire chamber would resemble one giant music box.   
  
Out of curiosity, I glanced upwards. A giant skylight held within its gaze the star-speckled sky above like some sort of cosmic bowl. The entire room seemed as if it was plucked out of some picturesque fairy tale.   
  
We descended down a few steps, merging ourselves into the rich atmosphere. Multiple gasps of surprise were heard from below, as expected.   
  
Phase one: complete. I smiled confidently, gliding down the steps with as much grace as I could muster with four-inch heels. Let it be noted that it was no easy task.   
  
"Tsukino-san! Chiba-san! How nice to see you here! We weren't expecting you two to show up after the hour!" exclaimed the jovial little man as I later recognized to be one of the three bumbling idiots from the restroom. He laughed heartily. It resembled an awful gurgling sound that one would hear from a swamp. Chiba and I barely held ourselves back from cringing in public.   
  
Two other men approached us from behind, whom I later recognized to be part of the little man's gossip crew. What do you know? Idiots do come in flocks! I've always prided myself with scientific facts that were proven through observation. I've always wondered where these people went to university, the National Institute for the Bovine, perhaps?   
  
I strained to smile, and made no motion to cover up that fact. "How could we ever miss this event?" I sidled next to a Greek urn lavishly filled with tumbling vines and fresh pink roses.   
  
"Right, Tsukino-san," he said stoutly, "It wouldn't be complete without two of our very best CEO's!"   
  
"Two of our very best CEO's? I wasn't aware that we had company in the land of prestige," I remarked innocently, my face bore a placid expression. The chortling fool didn't seem to understand my not-so-subtle insult. What was the address to the Institute for the Bovine, again?  
  
"Oh, Tsukino-san, you look absolutely lovely tonight! May I have the honor of a dance tonight? I will not step on your feet, I assure you," Washroom Idiot #2 offered. I glanced over at his right side, and low and behold was my glamorous cousin, Aino Minako. So, this was our little rumormonger. Surely Minako had better taste than this!   
  
Although, the same could be said for my appearance with Chiba...   
  
"Maybe later, Akari-san," I replied coolly, tilting my head toward him in mock respect. He nodded curtly in reply, a sign that went unnoticed by most. Perhaps Mr. Heir to the Corporation wasn't so stupid after all.   
  
"Mamoru?" I extended a hand to him, a silent invitation meant for him, and him alone. For some inane reason, he hesitated for a moment. He seemed reluctant until he accepted my hand in mute resolution.   
  
We strode across the ballroom, pausing in the exact center of the floor, or so the tile designs decreed. He placed one unsteady hand over mine. His fingers of the opposite hand lightly traced over the seam of my dress, not quite touching.   
  
I smiled, and realized at this moment that pairs upon pairs of gawking eyes were staring directly at us. The timing, the situation, the scene, was utterly perfect.   
  
The music cued in, and the last block fell into place. It was a soft waltz written by Strauss. We were ready to initiate phase two of the plan.  
  
Or, so I thought...  
  
I stepped forward, and then...he stepped forward! Our feet met with a light tap that seemed to bounce back and fourth in my ear canals. All right, I proposed silently to myself or to him, I wasn't sure whom, we would try this again.   
  
I stepped sideways, and he stepped-oh crap.   
  
Someone snickered in the background. Once I figure out who that someone is, I was going to have a field day with them.   
  
It was then that I noticed that Chiba could not dance. How could he NOT dance?! He didn't look like the type that had two left feet. Well, that is, if people that were cursed (or blessed, it depends how you look at the situation) with the inability to do a simple box step could be distinguished from large crowds by some aesthetic feature.   
  
"Chiba!" I ground out. He seemed to be...blushing? "Chiba!" I could hear more people sniggering at our, ah, attempt? "Why didn't you tell me that you couldn't dance?"  
  
"I didn't want to disappoint you," he replied, after much hesitation. "Your heart was set on this event tonight." We stood still on the dance floor, listening to the threatening whispers around us.   
  
"It was all an act!" Someone shouted loudly.  
  
"I told you! Chiba couldn't find someone decent even if he tried!"   
  
"You owe me 1,000 yen now!"   
  
Act? Decent? ONE-THOUSAND YEN?! Was that all this was worth?! I seethed, my fury was barely contained by the confines of my mortal shell. Chiba glanced at me and faltered slightly. The proverb, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," seemed a fitting caption to this situation.   
  
"Had I declined your invitation, your reputation would have been in shreds. It would be awkward had you danced with Akari first, before your own companion for this evening," he noted calmly, our hands still loosely linked together.   
  
Damn him for being the voice of reason.   
  
I let out the breath that I had been holding, "So, what do we do now?" I watched our battlefield burst in flames, our victory flag waving remotely visible among the crackling hearths, out of reach.   
  
Another pause.   
  
"Well," he commented with uncertainty, "We could walk off this dance floor and leave this place with whatever shreds of pride we have left, or..."  
  
"Or?" I prompted quickly, ready to pounce on the next opportunity.   
  
"Or, we could spend the night staying here and trying to salvage our pride by confronting the mob of employees over there," he jerked a thumb over to the small crowd behind him. "Although, I have a feeling that solution would not benefit us very well."   
  
"That's your options?!" I blurted out hysterically. "Don't you have a third option? Can't you *make up* a third option? You're intuitive! You're an engineer!"  
  
He gave me one of his rare, flat stares. "If you've forgotten, so are you." He ignored my threatening death glare. "Well...we could try this instead."   
  
"Try what?"  
  
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my waist, drawing scandalously to my hip. His other hand rested on my shoulder and traced an imaginary trail down to my palm. He took hold of the aforementioned palm and intertwined his fingers with mine.   
  
He grinned wickedly when he heard some of the employees gasp in surprise. Why wouldn't they gasp? I was shocked to the toes! If my feet weren't confined to my expensive, painful pumps, I might have felt the tingle too.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?!" My eyes widened substantially.   
  
"Honestly, Usagi, I have no idea," he grinned boyishly, his true nature peeking out from the cool exterior again.   
  
God help me.  
  
"Now that we have our 'relationship' façade secured nicely, mind giving me a crash course in ballroom dancing in the next, say, ten seconds?"   
  
"Chiba, it took me two years of dancing lessons with a professional dancer to learn how to dance properly. You're asking me to sum all that information up in ten seconds?" I was beyond amazed. Perhaps I should just say that I was surprised that he was willing to learn new skills. This is Chiba, might I remind you.   
  
"Five, and counting down, actually-"  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
"Well? I've already started on our third option. We could work on strengthening that part of our plan, if you wish. Although, I think the next thing at hand would be a kiss-no, don't scowl, your face might stay that way-but I'm sure the dancing would work nicely, no?" He grinned handsomely, using it as a powerful weapon of persuasion. I, on the other hand, was unaffected by his infectious grimace. To this date, he still thinks that that was what tipped the scales to his favor, but I disagree.  
  
"Lesson one, the box step." Perhaps that victory flag *was* in reach, after all.  
  
His grin grew wider, white teeth flashing. I swear, if I saw a sparkle, I would punch the living daylights out of him.   
  
"If I step forward, the mirroring foot steps backward, got it? If I step sideways, you step sideways in the same direction. The same goes for me, got it?" I searched his eyes for a glimmer of understanding, but his nod was more than sufficient for me. "I'll lead, for now."   
  
I stepped forward, slowly gathering up a little speed to match the rhythm of the music. To my astonishment, he stepped backwards, as he was told. Chiba was always a fast learner in our classes together.   
  
Next step was to go sideways, and I did so. Again, he stepped sideways-but in the wrong direction.   
  
"Chiba!"   
  
"Sorry."   
  
We tried the step again, and completed it successfully. Problem was, his eyes were permanently glued to the ground.   
  
I raised an eyebrow, tapping him on the shoulder. "What are you doing?"   
  
He shrugged, not lifting his eyes from the ground. "I don't want to step on your feet."   
  
To his surprise, I laughed cheerfully at him. His head snapped up, an expression of pure astonishment plastered on his face.   
  
Let it be known for the record that I surprised Chiba, for once.  
  
"Chiba, I wouldn't *let* you step on my feet," I pointed out dryly, directing him to the side of the ballroom. His startled look disappeared off the face of the earth, and was promptly replaced with his usual cocky expression.   
  
"Now, Chiba?" I increased our pace in conjunction with the stringed instruments. "Lesson two..."  
  
***  
  
We danced the night away, and somehow, managed a shaky twirl in the process. Perhaps, with a few more lessons, Chiba might turn out to be a wonderful dancer.   
  
"May I?" A voice cut in, pausing Chiba and I in mid-step. I recognized him to be Akari-san. Chiba turned to me in silent question. Did I really want to dance with Akari-san?   
  
The answer was no, but it would be impolite to decline his invitation. After all, it wouldn't be wise to bite the hand that feeds you-er, that is superior to you. You'd be surprised what Akari had access to, being the owner's first-born son.   
  
Chiba stepped back gallantly, bowing to me once before turning to the refreshments table. He looked a little upset. Most likely, he'd order himself some port and brood leaning against one of those stately columns.   
  
"Tsukino-san?" Akari had threaded his fingers through his hair, causing the locks to settle in a disheveled manner. It was an image that was commonly seen in magazines these days. The lights reflected off his lightly gelled hair. Briefly, I wondered if I could see my reflection in his chemically treated hair.   
  
The music was cued in, and we began to dance smoothly. It was a strange smoothness. We could never match patterns perfectly, for some reason. Even with Chiba's simple box step, we could achieve some sort of synchronization. With Akari, who I assumed has had as many dancing lessons as I have, if not more, we were never in perfect unity.   
  
"So, you've put on an interesting show on tonight," he remarked idly, an air of cockiness perpetually present in his demeanor.   
  
"Interesting? I'm not quite sure what you mean by that, Akari-san," I answered innocently, attempting to direct us from the center of the ballroom. However, he was intent on being the center of attention. Oh well, it wasn't that big a deal.   
  
"You really think that this façade would last all night?"   
  
"Façade, sir?"   
  
He sighed, exaggerating it to the point of irritating me. "Of course, we'll have it your way. It's not a façade, merely just a..." He clucked, searching for the correct word to finish his string of thoughts. "An act, then, if you'd rather prefer it that way. But do me a favor, and drop it? It is so demoralizing," he added, "on both parties." He completed his sentence with what was supposed to be a handsome grin. In my opinion, he looked too much like vermin to look handsome.   
  
"Stop the act?"   
  
"Please, Usagi-you're going too far with the questions," he interrupted, either ignoring or was busy being oblivious to my infuriated glare.   
  
"Of all the inferiority!" I muttered, but the comment did not escape his hearing. He responded by freezing mid-step, hand clenching mine with unbridled anger.   
  
"Inferiority?! Are you denying the fact that this isn't all an act?" He said rapidly in a deadly tone.   
  
I unsuccessfully tried to wrench myself free of the painful grasp. Our physical contact on the dance floor was beginning to make me nauseous.   
  
"Yes! It is an act! But I wouldn't stop it for the world! Why should we stop to salvage your reputation that you've endangered all by yourself?" I scolded him, like one spoiled child to another. I refused to watch my victory go down in flames because of one little pedestrian who said that I had to. "How much money do you have on the line? One thousand? Two? Ten? Perhaps even a million?!" He gaped at me, as if I had just seen right through his plan. Perhaps I did, or perhaps I did not, but my next words angered him beyond any sane human would have in my place. "Or is it your filthy pride that you have on the line?"   
  
It was then that he slapped me across the face. It was a loud, painful smack, which was unfortunately drowned out by the raging, intense music. Couples danced past us, but if any of them saw, they did not halt to stop the madness.   
  
I finally wrenched myself free of his grasp, twisting my arm painfully in the process of doing so. "How *dare* you?" Were the first words that escaped my lips. "What gives you the *right* to hit a woman?"   
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Chiba striding over to our direction. He must have seen Akari hit me across the face, and was probably going to have a few 'words' with him. If my memory serves me correctly, Chiba never did give two cents about what his superiors thought of him. An injustice was an injustice, after all.   
  
I watched the rage build up noiselessly within him. He was quivering like a volcano about to explode. Logic dictated that I leave, but my pride would not allow it until I finished with my thoughts.   
  
"You are the most despicable, pitiful, and disgusting man I have ever met! Why you're dating Minako, I will never know, but I do know that she deserves to hear that you have the *gall* and cowardice to beat a woman!"   
  
"You--!"   
  
He didn't have a chance to answer, for I kneed him in the ribs.   
  
***  
  
"Are you all right?" Chiba ran a finger over the cheek that Akari hit, tracing the swelling red mark. I ran a hand over the injured part of my face, and smiled, despite the pain that the moving muscles caused.  
  
"I'll be fine. I don't bruise that easily, remember?"   
  
He seemed to take that as a valid response. I think I strengthened Chiba's hate for Akari. I wouldn't want to see both of them fighting out a match in a boxing ring. What a horrifying thought...  
  
"By the way, nice work," he complimented. I looked at him oddly.   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
He tried to explain what he was thinking through wild gestures that made absolutely no sense to me. I raised an eyebrow at him.   
  
"When you kneed him in the ribs."  
  
I answered with a short and simple "Oh."   
  
"Yeah, that."   
  
"Would you have preferred me to have aimed lower?"  
  
***  
  
We left the inquisitive crowds, claiming that we would come back and that we only wanted to take a 'walk on the beach.' The latter was Chiba's invention, by the way.   
  
So, here we were, walking along a sturdy little pier. Judging by the sanded boards, the small dock was well kept and maintained. I stopped at the side edge of the pier, throwing a stone into the watery depths of the lapping waves. Another stone followed mine, Chiba's stone.  
  
"Thanks, Usagi," he said quietly to my backside. He seemed reluctant to break me free of my dream-like reverie. Perhaps it was the relaxing crash of the waves, or perhaps the twinkling stars above, but for once, I removed all sarcasm from my voice.  
  
"No problem. What are friends for?" I turned my head back at him briefly and smiled softly. Perhaps this was the core of our friendship, the fact that we would come to each other's rescue when the need arose. In any case, I was grateful that someone would always be there to break my fall, and that I was equally important to them.   
  
Once more, my back faced him, and I faced the majestic sea before me. I was almost expecting sirens or mermaids to break the surface of the rolling waves. However, it seemed that something else entirely different came instead.   
  
A hand grasped mine gently, fingers were caressing the back of my palm. "Usagi?" Mamoru's tone was several times softer than usual. It was almost...awkward.   
  
I laughed quietly in good humor, "It's not necessary to keep up the act. I'm sure they get the message up there," I pointed a finger up at skyscraper. I turned my head to his direction and made the mistake of looking directly into his rich, cobalt blue eyes.   
  
They were soft, yet seemingly impenetrable. All his internal struggles, conflicts, joys, weaknesses, strengths, were all recorded and set in the golden stone that was his soul. Truthfully speaking, even looking in the window to his soul frightened me beyond words could express. I tried to turn away, but found that I could not. He trapped me, a hunter cornering his prey.   
  
"The reason why you came," he whispered, voice hushed. I strained to hear his voice above the sound of the rolling waves. "It wasn't an obligation out of friendship. You came out of your own free will, and the act and the effort of the act itself would be placed in a different category..."   
  
"Friendship, the category, isn't it, Chiba?" I maintained my train of thought, lest I drown in the very words coming from his lips.   
  
"No..." Only his lips moved, for I could not hear his dismissal.   
He broke the eye-lock, turning his head to his left shoulder, looking disappointed.   
  
With the broken contact, an ounce of bravery, coupled with courage leapt to my throat. "Then what, Chiba?"  
  
The intense gaze returned, and I soon found my newfound courage disappearing down the drain with a liquid gurgle.   
  
"Of lovers," the expected, unavoidable words rolled from his mouth like rich, sweet honey. It was too sweet for my taste, however. The fluttering in my stomach increased ten-fold.   
  
Out of reflex, I turned my back toward him, seeking safety and refuge in the sea I had only known for the last half hour. The waves provided me with no consolation, except for an ancient, chanting wisdom that I could never understand. No, I would never learn the song of the waves, nor the speech of the stars. What hope was left for me?  
  
Two arms snaked around my waist from behind, as Mamoru encircled me in a firm embrace. It was one that made me feel uneasy. I was unused to hugs or affection of any genre.   
  
"Usagi," his lips were very close to my ear, my golden tendrils were probably tickling his face. I felt his chin rest on my unsteady shoulder.   
  
"All these years, I've always adored you. When I was alone, and the world turned its back harshly in my face, or when an icy gale of wind would throw me back, or when the snow stung my eyes and froze the tears upon my face, you were always there. You were always there to stop my world from turning upside-down. You were always there to support me against the wind. You were always there to wipe the stinging tears from my face. All these years..."   
  
All these years...? Every word was warm against my face. I stood, frozen in time, watching the everlasting waves perform their eternal dance. The waves roared in my ears, the dim light of the stars blinding me from unspoken distances above. Nevertheless, Mamoru continued, determined, firmly pressing his face to mine.  
  
"You are everything to me...everything," he murmured, the waves claiming his words, attempting to distort them into something less understandable. They didn't have to, but by some wicked twist of fate, his words were as clear as a sparkling crystal.   
  
Moments passed. Silence ensued. I began to shake uncontrollably, tearing myself from his grasp. He stared at me, bewildered.   
  
"No, Mamoru, I am not everything to you-"   
  
"But..." He interjected, an odd lilt in his voice.  
  
"I am nothing!"   
  
"Iie, iie..."   
  
"I am nothing more than a friend, and a terrible one, at that!" I heard someone sobbing, and found that it was myself. Anger and passion welled in my voice, coming out in the form of screams and tears. "I care for no one, except for myself."  
  
"I don't care!" The rich, soft voice exterior was gone, and the full-fledged fury of his passion exhibited itself with little regard to the universal laws demanded by common civility. "I love you!"   
  
The three words, the three *inevitable* words that would commence or complete this onslaught of powerful emotions that no man had the power to wield.   
  
I feared that power. I feared it with every fiber of my being.  
  
"You do not," I said quietly, sounding as drained as a dried husk of wheat that had fallen to the floor, rejected by the graders. "You were poorly misinformed, Mamoru. Life is short. Go find someone else more...deserving of your affections."  
  
I disappeared from the scene promptly after my input, receiving the last word, and his last, affectionate gaze.   
  
***  
  
Mercenary Editor for this installment: Alicia Blade   
::Incapacitating GLOMP:: Thank you ever so much! I couldn't have done this without you!   
  
June 28/01   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. Sailor Moon belongs to the   
almighty Naoko Takeuchi.   
  
Note : There's SWEARING! Bit depressing. Bit of development and   
realizations that are required for our dearest Usagi to learn.   
  
***  
  
Rule #5 : Beware of enemies who are happy.  
  
***  
  
Rules of Conduct : Part V  
By Mizu  
email: tokiya_ensui@yahoo.com  
  
***  
  
A ring of keys were splayed not too far from my position, metal   
glistening coldly back at me in the thin shaft of sunlight. You know,   
it takes about 8.3 minutes for the light from the sun to reach the   
earth. Elementary physics, my dear.   
  
I wasn't in the joking mood anyway. It's just one more way to   
hide from the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Too bad the   
stomach ache was being blotted out by the memory of a harsh reality   
raining upon me like heavy hailstones.   
  
Let's see...8.3 minutes ago, I was sprawled across the rich, green   
bedspread, dampening my goose-down duvet with salty tears. I didn't   
care that I suffered from a bout of insomnia last night, nor did I care   
that I was mussing up my hair after painstakingly placing them in   
intricate arrangements last night. I just...didn't want to think about   
the real world. Perhaps I should take some time off work.   
  
I wasn't much of an escapist a few years ago. I mean, having   
reality thrust into your face was a daily occurrence for me. Having no   
kin, nor memory, things had to be relearned, and re-taught quickly.   
Unfortunately for me, quickly meant the hardest, most practical way   
possible. For some, that method of learning is usually the best.   
However, my life was no longer the fiction that resides in children's   
minds. I learned everything, alone, with reality as the harshest, most   
efficient teacher. I sacrificed my childhood to gain understanding.   
Was the exchange worth it? I'm still not quite sure these days.  
  
It seems that my teacher was teaching me one of those on-hands,   
experience lessons last night. You know what they say, "Once a sensei,   
always a sensei."   
  
My stomach gave its scheduled six AM rumble. I blinked blearily   
at the clock to confirm the time. It was, indeed, six AM. I should   
have taken a shower by now. Coffee should have been brewing in its   
maker. Toast should be popping up any minute. The television should   
have been on, displaying the prospects for today's corporate futures.   
  
But that was not the case. The room was engulfed in silence. No   
sound, nor smell, wafted in and around the apartment. My routine had   
been broken for the first time in many, many years.   
  
Thin strips of yellow sunlight that escaped through the slits of   
the Venetian blinds bathed me in coldness. No! The light of the day   
was harsh! It showed too much to the human eye. It revealed the cruel   
and unsympathetic reality all too clearly!   
  
Where was the night to swallow up the ruthless light of day?   
Where was the night to place my fears to rest and to claim me?  
  
***  
  
No. Humans tend to love, to nurture, to be loved and to be   
nurtured. There is not such thing as loneliness. It just doesn't   
occur, not unless there is some corner in your heart that has convinced   
you that there is no love out there for yourself. Only then, when   
you've given up all hope, are you lonely.   
  
"Is that so? Did you love, and loved in return?"   
  
-grimace- Perhaps. I really can't remember. Can you?  
  
"I don't think so. It's been long. So very, very long."   
  
Long indeed. Several years, in fact. I really wouldn't expect a   
child to remember so much of their past.   
  
"But I did. Really, I did. I remembered that other children are   
harsh. I mean, what are children, but little adults? Adults are   
corrupt. They are evil. Children are just the spawn of adults."  
  
Is that what you've convinced yourself of now? Really. Times do   
change, I suppose. Ah, it's been a while. I've lost track of time.  
  
"Time? What is time to you? Where are you now?"  
  
Where? Well, I'm here. You can't really explain where 'here' is.   
  
"I miss you."  
  
Oh, that's nice to hear. Does make a person's day, doesn't it?   
Why, I'm where I've always been. I've been right by you every waking   
and sleeping moment. It's up to you whether you should disregard me or   
not. You're the one with the power of choice. I'm just here for your   
convenience.   
  
Oh, by the way, I miss you too.  
  
***  
I awoke with a flurry of bed sheets and comforters thrust into the   
air.   
  
Dreams. I hated dreams. Dreams were the passageway to a person's   
subconscious mind. They were irrelevant, and impractical. Why did a   
person have to dream, anyway? What was the blessed point of it but to   
create exhausting sleep? I was already an insomniac. What else did   
this world want from me?  
  
Nevertheless, I ended up sleeping, and dreaming throughout the   
course of the day. I awoke at sunset, but did not move from my curled   
position under the sheets. I could feel the sun dip slowly into the   
horizon, the heat dissipating gradually. It was hot, far too hot during   
the day. The night would spread its soothing cool air around the city.   
The stars would allow pinpricks of illumination to alight a traveler's   
way. The ghostly moon was at a quarter of the way to a full sphere.   
  
I should have gone to work. Oh well. They'll understand. It's   
not like the others could handle a day without me.   
  
Without? Was a truly needed in this world?   
  
"You are everything to me...everything," A faint memory echoed   
softly in my head. Was I really?   
  
All of a sudden, I could smell the salted-sea air, I could hear   
the sound of waves chorusing and crashing coldly in the background.   
  
No, I couldn't have—I was not everything to him. Chiba was lying.   
Lying! The insane bastard!   
  
I could almost feel his warm breath against the curve of my cheek   
and his lips brushing against my ear with hushed whispers.   
  
NO! Was I going mad? Why was I doting on past events? Why was I   
remembering the lesson that reality presented on a cold platter for me?   
  
A lesson is a lesson, I admitted bleakly to myself. I just hope   
that I wasn't expected to study.   
  
***  
  
After five days of moping, I returned to work. Everything was   
neat and in order, from head to toe. The customary greetings and smiles   
to my receptionist might take a bit of time to redevelop. At any rate,   
they seemed to place the façade that they it didn't ruin their day.   
  
"Morning, Tsukino-san!" An elderly caretaker waved past, pushing   
his mop across the marble floor. He gave me an energetic wave, as he   
always did before.   
  
"Morning," I mumbled from a cup of coffee and a newspaper opened   
at the business section. I was looking through the closing prices for   
yesterday. Ouch. I think I'm going to have to sell some of those   
stocks that I've been holding on for the last month or so.   
  
I walked into my office, happy to see that it was left exactly in   
the way I had left it. When people start attempting to arrange my   
things, they usually get lost. I'm better off cleaning my own offices.   
  
I walked toward my desk with a purposeful air. The last five days   
were a waste of time, I realized. I would fix that with extra hard work   
in the next couple of months following.   
  
I sighed happily, sinking into my chair. I leaned toward one   
side, causing the apparatus to turn with well-oiled mechanisms. "It's   
great to be back," I smiled, closing my eyes contentedly. Life was   
starting to turn up.   
  
"Finally back, are we?" A cold voice muttered. My eyes snapped   
open. Swivelling violently toward the front of my desk, I saw an   
unannounced visitor. It was Akari. I was going to have to speak to my   
secretary about it if visitors keep popping into my office at will.   
  
"Here I thought you were out celebrating with your *lover*," he   
placed an extra sneer on the misinterpreted term, "with an unannounced   
vacation." He began analyzing his fingernails, buffing them on his   
jacket. "He didn't take more than a day off, though. Break up so   
soon?"   
  
I met his eyes squarely with blue fire. My instincts were in red   
alert mode. "Good morning, Akari-san." He grimaced in reply, an ugly,   
cold and calculated creasing of the facial features. He was up to   
something. Only an idiot wouldn't notice something as obvious as that.   
He also looked happy, or whatever would pass for happy on his face. A   
rule taken from my book: beware of enemies who are happy.   
  
"Same to you. Though, you might require a 'good morning' more   
than I do." The light hit his hair in all its gelled, flammable glory.   
If just a tiny spark fell into the stiff strands... Perhaps I should   
have aimed for the crown jewels at the gala. There was something about   
this man that gave me the feeling that he slithered through dark places   
and swallowed mice, whole.   
  
My voice was flat, monotone. "Why?" I didn't feel like beating   
around the bush this morning. Had this happened a few weeks later, I   
might have been delighted to. It really depends on my mood.   
  
"Oh, I have a delivery for you," he said, attempting to look   
innocent, yet conniving at the same time. Innocent, yet conniving, ha!   
To me, he looked like the biggest oxymoron in a designer suit with half   
a tub of hair gel piled on top of his head. Who knows? Perhaps others   
might share my opinion.   
  
I smiled sweetly, "...and what might that be, boss?" He frowned.   
One point for me.   
  
Digging into the interior pocket of his cream-coloured suit, he   
pulled out a plain, white envelope. I wonder how he managed to hide   
that in there...  
  
He flung the envelope on my desk, watching me as it thud softly on   
the wooden surface. What was that church lesson about accepting gifts   
from the devil again?   
  
I eyed the package suspiciously. Well, it wasn't big enough to   
stuff a mouse-trap in, or some other creepy crawly creature.   
  
"Go ahead," he said in a sickening, nasty lilt to his voice, "Open   
it." Then again, it was from a creepy crawly creature.   
  
Gingerly, I picked up his "gift", silver letter opening in hand.   
With practiced grace, I slit open the edge of the envelope, allowing the   
contents to flutter quietly to my desk in a zig-zag motion.   
  
I picked up the paper with my left hand, scanning through the   
contents of the note. By the time I was half-way through the note, my   
right hand was ready to crush the handle of the letter opener in two,   
and stab Akari in the chest.   
  
"You filthy, conniving, son of a bitch!" I roared. The   
background noise from the outer ring of offices seemed to silence almost   
immediately. "What the hell is the meaning of THIS?!" I crumpled the   
envelope into a dense little ball of paper, and aimed it at him. It   
bounced off an area that was about five centimetres from his leather-  
clad feet and rolled off to the side.   
  
He looked smug. "Why, if you can't read, my dear—"  
  
"I'm NOT your dear!"   
  
The air of arrogance was still present about him. "Very well,   
Tsukino-san. I will say exactly what I said in the official notice," he   
inched backwards toward the entrance to my office. Coward.  
  
I wanted to hear it from him. Perhaps, then, that would ignite my   
courage to pummel him into the marble floors like the puny little fossil   
brain that he was.   
  
"You're fired."  
  
***  
  
Oh well. Life goes by. Just because one Tsukino Usagi was   
missing one little job didn't mean that her life was ruined. But, it   
was such an important little job that summed up a large percentage of   
her life. Missing my job was like missing some important aspect of   
myself.   
  
So, here I am, two days later, in a pair of old sweats and a tub   
of triple chocolate fudge ice cream in my hand. Depressing, isn't it?   
I never wear sweats, and I hate wasting away my figure with high-calorie   
foods. Desperate times calls for desperate measures, I suppose.   
  
Perhaps it was all for the best, I admitted to myself, while I   
shipped off my office belongings in a small, cardboard box. Then, Akari   
wouldn't allow me to take my favourite cactus home. He said that it was   
bought with 'company funds' and thus, was not mine to take. At that   
point, I had run out of colourful vocabulary. I figured that a rolling   
of the eyes heavenward would suffice. All for the best? Did I say that   
earlier? How stupid of me.  
  
My fist hit my coffee table with an audible thump that echoed   
throughout the lonely apartment.   
  
Damn it!   
  
I wanted my life back!  
  
I wanted my job back!  
  
I wanted my cactus back!   
  
I was in the middle of muttering plots about corporate domination   
and injustices when the ring of the telephone dragged me back into   
reality. Sometimes, that thing is just as evil as the pager. Perhaps   
they're conspiring with one another.  
  
I picked up the receiver and brought it to my ear. "I'm sorry,   
but Tsukino Usagi is currently turning into a vegetable in the corner of   
a small, dark cave somewhere in the east-west galaxy. Please leave a   
message, and she'll get back to you when she returns from the land of   
chocolate-eating, pink bunnies. Beep."   
  
"Usagi? Usagi?!" Minako's voice came through the receiver. She   
sounded flustered. "Usagi! You won't believe what Mamoru did!"   
  
Gossip. Yay. "Do I care, dearest cousin?"   
  
"Stop it! This is important!" She was starting to sound irate.   
I took the next step to make her angry. Why? I haven't the slightest   
clue. Gossiping wasn't a favourite past-time of mine.  
  
"Oh, something important has crossed your mind? What a surprise!"   
I snickered.   
  
Silence.   
  
"That was mean," she sounded hurt. I suppose she deserved an   
apology. It was my fault for bating her like that.  
  
"I'm sorry," I apologized. Let it be known that apologizing isn't   
one of my fortes. In this case, whatever evil name she decided to call   
me was wholly deserved. "What's up with Chiba, again?"  
  
"Lots!" She chirped, sounding her normal, perky self again. "You   
see, when he found out that day that you were fired, he went after the   
powers that be."  
  
"And...?" Prompted I.  
  
"Well, they said that it was out of their hands and didn't do   
anything except point a finger at Akari-san."  
  
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What does this have to do with me? What   
Chiba does is none of my business."  
  
She sighed, exasperated, as if I wasn't getting a very important   
element to our short conversation. "So, the next day, Akari didn't come   
into work. Apparently, someone said that they saw him with a black eye   
and a bloody nose the day before."   
  
I snickered. What a surprise. Full circle.   
  
"According to the guard, the last two people in the building the   
night before were Akari-san," she paused, as if unsure if she should   
tell me the rest of the story, lest it be too painful for me to hear.  
  
"Well, go on, already!"  
  
She continued, "...and Mamoru."  
  
"Chiba? You mean Chiba beat the pulp out of Akari?"   
  
She nodded against the receiver, a scraping of an affirmative   
response. "Yeah. But you haven't heard the worst yet."  
  
Worst? This was pretty good news, thus far. Why did I have the   
sinking feeling that she was going to dump a bucket of ice water on my   
head? "Keep going, Minako."   
  
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Last night, Mamoru was...hurt,   
very badly."  
  
"Hurt? Chiba? He's a big boy. He can take care of himself," I   
answered my unasked question, denial evident in my voice. The sinking   
feeling in my stomach increased tenfold. Was this assurance for his   
welfare, or, I gulped, mine?   
  
"No, Usagi. He was beaten, by a gang of men that have yet to be   
caught. Everyone suspects Akari though. Since he fired you on   
unjustified terms, Mamoru probably got angry with him and hit him a few   
times. Akari probably hired a group of men to return the favour." There   
was a break in the speech, a muffled sob. "Mamoru's in a coma now."   
  
I was silent. The receiver lay limply in my right hand. Ice   
cream was melting in my right. Slowly, the handset slid down the length   
of my face to rest on my shoulder.   
  
"Mamoru's at the hospital downtown. I thought you'd like to know.   
Goodnight, Usagi." A digital beep indicated a closed telephone   
connection.   
  
Coma? Chiba's in a coma? All because of my situation, the idiot   
included himself in my business. Just to top it off, he got hurt in the   
process! What was he thinking? What a senseless, irresponsible,   
reckless thing to do! Was he trying to act out the role of the hero?   
  
...or just the role of a misguided, lovesick fool?  
  
I couldn't keep the frail oath I had made just a week ago. For   
the second time in my adult life, I cried.  
  
***  
  
Ho hum. It takes me months to get the next chapter out. Oops.   
  
::runs away::  
  
~Miz 


End file.
